


Ichthyophobia

by pyalgroundblz (acidtonguejenny), TheLoveSlug



Series: That's a Lot of Tentacles [1]
Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kink Meme, M/M, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/pyalgroundblz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoveSlug/pseuds/TheLoveSlug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Butters was a pretty normal guy, if you forgot the fact that he worked with dead people. Yeah, he was normal, but his boyfriend? Harry was, in fact, a tentacle monster. Surprise!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ichthyophobia

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the following prompt: [Harry Dresden is a tentacle monster. He is not very good at it. That whole ravishing thing? So not his style. He's looking for something a little more long-term, you know? Tentacle!Harry/any character. Other character initiates sex. Consensual preferred.](http://scribe-protra.dreamwidth.org/306.html?thread=564530#cmt564530)
> 
> x-posted to Slug's LJ!

Butters was a pretty normal guy, if you forgot the fact that he worked with dead people. He was pretty normal, but his boyfriend? His boyfriend was... well, Harry was...different.

This was an understatement.

Butters had never had the greatest luck with relationships. He was always so timid, his dates just _gave up_. He was wary when Harry— _tall_ , nice Harry—asked if he wanted to get a cup of coffee.

Nice or not, Butters wasn’t sure what to expect from the oddball investigator. He had heard things. He's-a-pyromaniac type-things. The least of his potential worries, as it turned out, but Harry put (most of) those bad rumors to rest. He was _unfailingly_ nice, and patient, even if he got snarky from time to time. Or, well, a lot of the time. Butters actually liked that about him though.

Things progressed from there, from coffee to out-and-out dating. Butters was still amazed sometimes; this was easily the longest he'd dated anyone. Ever.

But it was Butters. There was _something_. There was _always_ something.

Of fucking course. Harry had a secret. The secret turned out to be what made him so _different_ , and it was not a little secret--not in the least. Butters fainted when he was finally let in on it. Told, and then…shown...

Really. He hadn’t meant to.

Harry was, in fact, a tentacle monster.

Surprise!

"I'm a _cecaelia_ , actually."

Well, okay, he was a _cecaelia_. Being a different breed of merfolk, instead of fish attributes, Harry had octopus.

Bunny in one hand, rabbit in the other. He was still half fish.

(Merfolk aren't strictly half-fish and half-human. They were the offspring of sea fae and mortals, and their merforms looked _nothing_ like the pictures Butters Googled. Because Google is what you do, when you find out you're dating a fish-person.

" _Half_ -fish!"

Whatever.)

So, Butters was dating a merperson except, instead of a busty babe who was fish half--or even a Little Mermaid-esque Ursula-half--he got a twelve foot long, deep-sea _alien_ looking creature. In this new form, Harry's skin was dark, like no-color-without-light dark, like abyss-dark. It was silk-smooth to the eye and utterly hairless. Strangest of all, however, was the fact that his face was unmarred, mouthless and without a nose or eyebrows; only his eyes remained.

Butters didn't try to count the tentacles, but there were easily more than eight. Suffice to say, there were a lot. They were as smooth as his face, devoid of suckers like any typical octopus.

His eyes were…well. Butters like his eyes best, out of all of the newness. They were a soft, dully gleaming silver, nearly white and uninterrupted by either iris or cornea, and glowed in the dark. He had difficulty deciding if the way they shone through gloom was creepy or…comforting. Somehow.

And no, Harry didn't have any cool heat-vision abilities or anything; it was bioluminescence. Butters had asked.

Ultimately, tentacle monsters aside, Harry was still _Harry_. Still the tall, nice, wonderfully _snarky_ guy that had first asked Butters for coffee. It changed surprisingly little—apart from, maybe, Butters’ blood pressure. He had accepted Harry’s fish-y side with unexpected ease.

Uh. After he fainted. Harry wasn't about to let him forget the fainting.

...

Okay, no. Actually, not really. He knew Harry wouldn’t hurt him--c'mon, it was _Harry_ \--but it still scared him when he remembered Harry _like_ …that.

Did that make him a bad boyfriend? Well, if it did, Butters could understand.

Harry noticed when he edged away from his casual touches and God love him, he never said anything about it. Really, it was only Harry! _HarryHarryHarry_. Sweet and nice _Harry_.

Butters could only imagine how he hurt felt.

“I-I’m sorry—“

“It’s fine, Butters, really,” Harry pulled his hand back, smiling lightly. “How was work?”

He did that a lot. Would change the conversation to something else—something not…tentacle related. And when Butters tried (key word: _tried_ ) to bring it back up, Harry would tell him that ' _it_ was fine' and they could 'talk about _it_ some other time'.

But, yeah, it wasn't fine. Two months after finding out, two months of flinching and squirming and awkwardness, Butters stilled wondered if his longest-to-date relationship was going to break any more records.

Two months was. It was too long to wonder.

“Harry...” Butters said quietly, hesitantly having decided to take the plunge. He reached out—and then stopped, god, why was this so _hard_ —

Harry leaned away, eyes hooded. “You don’t have to, Waldo.”

He didn't normally call him Waldo. Hadn't since their first, real fight. Only when things were— _weren't_ good—

And fuck, things weren't good. Things were bad, bad, bad bad. It was serious and Butters was going to do something about those two months _right now, goddamnit._

“No, wait.“ a sharp inhale, where the hell were his balls. “I…Please?”

As firmly as he could, because Butters wasn’t sure _at all_. Wasn't sure if he could handle a tentacle-boyfriend, didn't know if things would be good again after what came next, but _christ_ it wasn't Harry's fault, and he had to try. He just needed a few words. His tongue felt like it was trying to tie itself into knots and Harry was watching him and fuck this was nerve-wrecking.

“Show me,” Butters said, because it wasn't a question. He didn't know what he'd do if Harry refused, this was his plan A, B and Z. “Show me.”

 _It_. Thing. That…Harry. _Cecaelia_ …Harry.

Harry was cecaelia. But Harry was also _Harry_ and…maybe…Maybe that would be enough.

Just Harry.

“I want to see you,” He cut off any reply Harry might be formulating, hand on his arm, emphasizing, " _You_."

Harry took his wrist gently in his other hand, his grip so loose and achingly unsure.

So close.

“You don’t…want that,” he said, gripe firming, deep tone leveling as he made his own decisions.

But, he _did_ , Butters abruptly realized. He actually _did_.

“Stop it,” Butters snapped, inspired by the certainty of this new realization, and embraced a bit of triumph when that hold slackened, whether out of surprise or because Harry maybe believed him a little, it didn't matter-- "Don't try to discourage me."

Harry shuddered, like some sensitive chord in him had been struck. “I don’t want to scare you away.” I don’t want you to leave me.

That hurt to hear, but he understood. The same he would understand the label of 'Bad Boyfriend', after those _fucking_ two months.

“You won’t,” He said, leaning to rub his cheek over the stubble on Harry’s jaw. And because Harry was the kind of person who justified redundancy, “You _won’t_.”

A moment’s pause, before--

“Okay,” Harry swallowed, looking a little dazed. His hips moved against Butters' hand at crotch of his jeans, though he didn't seem to notice. “I… we need the shower, Butters.”

Oh yeah, the shower. More specifically, _the water_.

They'd been at a lake when Harry had shifted that first time, because he was actually at risk of drying up when he wasn't able to keep enough enough moisture in his body, in that form.

But... “...I don’t think you’ll fit in the shower, Harry.” Because the lake was the lake obviously and Harry already had a hard time getting into his _own_ shower as it was.

Something about that made him giggle. Exactly what, he wasn’t too sure, just that it was most assuredly absurd. And probably the internet's fault.

Harry snorted, amused. His expression was now gratifyingly clear and light, though some uncertainty lingered in his feather-soft touches. “You ever seen those videos where octopi squeeze their bodies into a bottle?”

Butters blinked.

“Uh. Yes.” Well, that made sense. Kind of?

"Not as many bones as you'd think." He winked, before sobering up. Harry threaded their fingers together and stood, tugging Butters up from the couch. “C’mon,” he said, eyes soft and liquid.

Butters had a flashback to malleable silver as he was pulled to the bathroom, and he's suddenly too aware of Harry's abnormally cool body temperature and. Whoo, getting a little dizzy. Butters may have been freaking out a little, but a _little_ was okay.

Harry was stripping by the time Butters had his jitters under enough control to notice, and steam was beginning to thicken the air.

Butters was stupidly grateful for the size of the bathtub. It had previously been an embarrassing indulgence, but it would be pretty damn convenient in the next few minutes, he was sure.

Eeh. Hour. Or two. Butters felt a tug at the collar of his shirt, and obligingly began to underdress, going for his fly because he knew Harry had his upper half under control. Which, now that he thought about it, that was _really_ neat. This was the first time he'd been with someone long enough to develop a rhythm.

He kicked all of the clothing to the other side of the bathroom, watching over his scrawny shoulder has Harry stepped into the partially-filled tub, reaching for the knob that would switch the flow from facet to shower head. Butters had become acquainted with the sight of a naked, post- or pre-shower Harry wandering around, in his apartment and Butters'. The first time, he'd sputtered and said something stupid (like, “You’re really naked?”). He hadn't seen _naked people_ just striding around like that many times in his life, and bare-assed Harry in his hallway had been... a start.

Butters hadn’t really known _why_ Harry took so many showers until after the lake incident.

“ _Watering myself_ ,” Harry had always told him.

The sound of the water gurgling in the walls, being rerouted through the pipes brought him back.

“Butters?” Harry watched him from where he reclined, somewhat stiffly, against the tub. Making sure he was with the program. He was still human-shaped, so far.

“I...zoned,” Well, he had.

It paid to stay in the present. A naked Harry was a nice Harry.

Butters may have zoned out again. Harry threw a wash cloth that had been hanging nearby at his nose.

“I’m your boyfriend, I’m allowed to oogle if I want.” It came out of Butters' mouth before he thought to stop himself.

The amount of stupid things that had been said over the course of Butters and Harry’s time together to-date would wrap around the earth twice, and still have enough left to tie a big, pretty bow of _total embarrassment_. And there was still the future.

The future. Butters' stomach did a funny little flip as he inched closer to the bathtub. That would…That would be pretty nice.

Harry did a pretty good impression of a deer about to get run over by an over-enthusiastic redneck, when properly motivated. And then he laughed, all deep and good-humor. Butters felt his skin tighten at that sound. “Was that the only thing you were oogling?” A playfully affected, rueful tone.

Psh. Like he needed to ask.

Like this, it was easy to forget who Harry really was.

He was a man who felt the _need to ask the same question eleven times_. “Butters—“

"Harry, be quiet." Butters ignored the tremble that went through his legs as his knees bumped the ceramic. "So, uh. How does this work? Do I just…? Or do you—?"

Butters cut himself off and gestured with his hands. And his arms.

Energetically.

Harry made a face like he wanted to laugh, but was also trying to choke it down. "Me first," He said in a careful voice, and briefly closed his eyes.

It didn't seem to take any concentration. If anything, it looked like his entire body, all nearly-seven-feet of him, suddenly _relaxed_ , and Butters felt a pang as he thought of Harry constantly holding the human form.

But he had to let that thought go until another time as a fresh one occurred to him.

"Harry? Where's your penis?"

That, Harry did laugh at. Embarrassingly loudly. Butters scolded and blushed furiously, scrubbing at his hair and mumbling. It was a freaking legitimate question.

Still chuckling, Harry asked, / _Worried for me, or for you?_ /

It was miles better than what they'd been at ten minutes ago, though. Butters could let it go this time

He stuck his tongue out as he went to climb into the bathtub. "For both of us, actu--"

He 'Eeped!', and flinched so hard he almost fell as Harry's tentacles began to curl up and around his legs, circling comfortably, but firmly, around his hips and pulling him in. Tentacles bent his knees for him, relaxed his ankles and licked up his sides as they were able to reach.

 _Sooo_ many more than eight tentacles. So many. Fucking. More.

Butters shivered at the borderline-ticklish sensation of wet-smooth sliding over him, and gave a startled sigh as Harry brought him down, until he was flush against him.

And. Holy fuck. "You're. You're doing the Professor X thing."

Harry didn't have an eyebrow to crook at him, but somehow managed to convey the expression with the angle of one large silver eye. / _You're really going to bring that up now?_ /

"I think anytime is AAS! good as ever to ask whHHYy you're…hur…boyfriend can. Is. Is telepathic."

/ _I meant old, bald X-men, actually. And I'm not really telepathic, I can't read your mind or anything._ / He smiled. At least, Butters thought that was a smile. It sounded like he was smiling, in his head.

That sounded so weird. But the tentacle rubbing flat against his asshole and the probing touches to his sac were infinitely more interesting than making sense, at the moment.

Harry's hands held him firmly to his front, arms wrapping around Butters and free to remain while so many other appendages went to work on him. Butters felt, amid all of the touching, his individual fingertips pressing into his skin where the hold around him tightened. Harry, mouthless and unable to kiss him like Butters thought he probably wanted to, began rubbing his unbroken face against Butters', against his cheeks, and jaw and temples.

As the pressure over various parts of him increased and the embrace he was cradled in drew on, everything started to seem so much more… _intimate_ than anything they'd done together before. Butters was virtually surrounded in Harry, wrapped up in him. His strange, near scentless-aroma was all he could smell, the sucking darkness of his skin and the shine of his eyes nearly all he saw, and what he _felt_ …

His hips were encased in tentacles. Tentacles encircled his cock and more gently held his balls, and the hard grind against his ass had long since begun to penetrate. The slender ends of two flexed inside of him, supple as a tongue, and as they pushed slowly deeper it turned into the best rimming Butters had ever. _Ever_ , had. Not to mention the dozen other appendages just stroking, finding erogenous zones in unexpected places.

And there was that loud… _purr_ , in the back of his mind. It increased in tempo and volume according to his own groans and gasps, stumbling over itself every time a whimper made it past his teeth before Butters could quash it.

Butters' eyes had drooped at some point, and between the blackness of Harry beneath him and his own eyelashes, the light of the bathroom and the glare off of white ceramic was reduced to the occasional slivers.

The two tentacles in his ass retreated, and Butters gave a kind of whimpering-moan in hazy protest, which the purr _loved_. The drone swelled up to a loud, unrelenting hum that filled his not-ears as the tips of the two tentacles held him open and--and what might have been three twined together, hard and thick and gently insistent, replaced them. Butters cried out in surprise pleasure and jerked forwards, his own arms around Harry's sides squeezing hard as Harry's face-rubbing kisses pressed harder and his hands swooped over his back in broad petting motions.

The tentacles' thrusting was slow, evenly paced and entirely inescapable. Every inward push rocked him forwards, until the water sloshed rhythmically. The arm around his lower back lifted away to grip the side of the bath for steadiness, leaving a strip of cool behind. Butters curled more tightly against Harry--somehow--tucking his face into his neck and biting. Harry turned his head to press his cheek to his hairline, still rubbing, still purring.

Butters had no idea how he hadn't come yet, and was surfacing from Harry's shoulder with the very fuzzy notion that he should investigate this in case something was broken, when a single tentacle rose to push questingly against his chin and cheek.

He regarded it blearily, his head pounding in time with the tentacles in his ass, and only began to get the picture when it stroked horizontally across his lips. He opened for it to slide in, shivering deliciously at the _wonderfully_ unique feeling of it, gliding over his flattened tongue and towards his throat, the stretch of his jaw and the tip of it _almost_ uncomfortably close to his gag reflex.

The purring sped up, deep now and almost _grating_ , revving with the thrusts of the tentacle moving in Butters' mouth.

Finally. _Finally_ , Butters came with a sharp, muffled yip, parts of him tensing up and loosening rapidly as orgasm tore through him. There had been no obvious build up--he hadn't been at all prepared for--ooooh, oh fuck…

Most of the water was gone from the tub. He heard the gurgling swirl of the drain sucking away, and registered--god, for possibly the first time--the pattering of the shower on his back. The water was lukewarm, somehow. Butters knew his hot water allowance wasn't _that_ generous, but he'd think about that later. Wherever he had been supporting his own weight, he abruptly _wasn't_ anymore, and he had started to slide down Harry's chest when the arms and the tentacles and various things drew him close again. The thrusting in his ass had greatly slowed, and he could feel some wiggling going on down there, probably the limbs untangling but--for…for some reason, the thrusting hadn't stopped, not wholly.

Come to think of it, neither had the purring, nor had Harry's grip of on him slackened to any extent. The touches around his dick had retreated, and the tentacles massaging his sac had largely calmed, but…

The tentacle in his mouth pulled free suddenly and descended to join the one that remained inside of him, pushing carefully past his slightly stinging sphincter. They resumed thrusting, not as hard or as quickly as before, but still faster than was strictly comfortable with one orgasm still fading around the edges. Butters scrambled to reaffirm his hold around Harry and get blood flowing to his arms at once, hissing at the near-pain of continued stimulation. The purr was so loud in his mind his teeth vibrated.

He was on the verge of crying out when the tentacles around him suddenly _squeezed_ , and Harry _shouted_ in his mind. There was pulsing, and a sensation not unlike previous times when Harry had climaxed inside, minus raincoat.

This time nothing stopped Butters from sliding. Harry's fingers struggled weakly, but weren't able to keep a hold on him, though fortunately he didn't slide far. Tentacles splashed in the few inches of still in the tub as they fell, heavy and limp as cooked noodles wherever they weren't looped around him enough to hang. Harry's chest moved hugely as he panted for breath, the accompanying noises curiously absent. The water was starting to lose its lukewarm temperature.

Butters' head felt thick and cotton-stuffed, now that the purring had completely stopped.

Butters couldn't find it in him to twitch a finger. He didn't attempt anything much more ambitious, content to stay where he was until Harry dumped him off.

/ _…what did you think?_ / Harry's mental-voice was ragged and slightly breathless, dragged down by an unmistakable quality of I'm-going-to-nap-now.

Butters groaned. The effort it would take to utilize his vocal cords seemed phenomenal.

_Holy crap._

For a brainless, hysterical moment, Butters compared his boyfriend to a wet bean bag. He was certainly _comfortable_ enough, though Butters had the feeling he wouldn't appreciate being a funny piece of furniture, no matter how _mind-blowing and possibly the kinkiest of kinks_ sex that didn't make sense. Fuck, who cared.

"Effmphmm, _sex_ ," Butters mumbled into Harry's--stomach? Chest? Did octopuses--octopi? Octopussies, _hah_! Also, _sex_.

/ _Sex?_ /

"Sex," Butters agreed.

 _That was awesome_ , said his brain. And his dick. His mouth wasn't so sure, though.

Maybe it was the sudden lack of _don't give a fuck, yay!_ or maybe it was all that crazy in Harry's afterglow. Butters giggled. "Did I give you a blowjob?"

His ass was going to hurt _so much_ later.

/ _Sorry, sorry._ / Came the whisper, groggy and nowhere _near_ guilty enough.


End file.
